


I Got You

by ayaheartright



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flash Fiction, Fluff, Gen, Lawyer Sam, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayaheartright/pseuds/ayaheartright
Summary: Prompt: AU where Sam makes it to the interview, becomes an amazing lawyer, and finds out his next case is against a man who was charged with several counts of murder and credit card theft and on the court day Dean walks in with handcuffs and a shit eating grin on his face.





	I Got You

Samuel Winchester, District Attorney, stood in court. He arrived early to go over his assistant’s notes, having been too tired to do so the days before the case. He glanced apprehensively at the briefcase at the edge of the table. It looked worse for wear, with stains splattered throughout it. No amount of scrubbing could clean spit up off expensive leather. He added buying a new briefcase to his to-do list, wondering if he would have time to swing by the store after court, which, he hoped, wouldn't last too long.

“Almost brings back memories,” he murmured as he grabbed the large mug off the table next to him and took a sip. His hand wrapped around the hot ceramic, absently noting the texture of the blue and pink hand-prints that had been set in the oven at home. He inspected the size of them every time he grabbed his mug. This time wasn't an exception.

That's not to say that the craft brought back memories, since he had no recollection of such things before college, but the sleeplessness, the three triple red eyes, they reminded him of his childhood.

When did Dean start drinking coffee? Did he start during restless nights with too much responsibility? When he had to take care of baby Sam, when he was just a baby himself?

Sam had found himself thinking of his older brother more and more lately, ever since Mary and Gary were born. Sam hated how the names rhymed, but when Jess suggested they name the twins after his mother and her father, he couldn't refuse.

The coffee was lukewarm. Jess had brewed it at home before he left, using her former barista skills to make it as caffeinated as he always had when hunting.

She didn't know. He'd never let her know. She never asked about the nightmares that kept him pacing at witching hours, or why he cringed every time she called the twins nightly routine that. Instead she merely sighed, grateful for his shitty sleep routine.

It had gotten slightly better since the twins past their six month mark. They slept through the night, but more importantly, Sam’s nightmares of fire and screaming had stopped. In a way, he preferred lost memories to the replacement: guilt induced dreams of Dean. The family he abandoned to start a new one.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home for a few days.” Sam quoted Dean’s last words.

When Sam refused, his brother merely nodded, as if he couldn't care less, and left.

What had happened to him? To dad? Sam shook his head. He didn't care about his old man, but his refusal to Dean still shook him.

Sam gulped the last of his coffee, and placed the mug back on the table. He unzipped his briefcase. The chicken scratch notes from his assistant spilled out. He would have to tell the kid how to organize. For the next few minutes, Sam simply made piles of evidence, ignoring the way that the lazy packing forced him to skim the evidence, and also the case itself.

Credit card fraud.

Identity theft.

Multiple murders.  
“No. Not a hunter,” he pleaded.

This wouldn't be the first time that he mistook a civilian crime for paranormal. This wouldn't be the first time that he suspected a guilty party as innocent. It wasn't his place to judge. That was later down the road, the ten year plan.

Sam flipped through the pages until he found information on the criminal. Bile bit the back of his throat. His vision blurred. Sam slammed his hands on the table. The papers fell to the floor. He couldn't blame his palpitations on caffeine.

“Dwayne Hicks?!” He shouted.

#

  
“No, no, no. This can't be happening,” Sam muttered.

He lost track of how long he had been pacing between the persecution bench and the defense — Long enough for the court room to fill with people. He felt sick. He wanted to call off sick, drive home in his BMW and forget that today had ever happened, that the last decade had ever happened. No. Not the whole decade, just the decision he made to turn Dean away.

“Mr. Winchester, are you all right?” His intern asked.

“Fine, Vivian. I'm fine.”

By the way her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed, he surmised she didn't believe him.

He didn't believe it when the defense led the defendant into the court room, dressed in orange, clapped in cuffs around his ankles and wrists.

In some strange way, seeing this man, with his five o’clock shadow, the subtle crow’s feet around his eyes, and his sharp but tired hazel eyes made Sam’s nerves instantly. The years faded away. None of the physical changes mattered when the man smiled, giving Sam that shit eating grin.

“Dean,” Sam breathed.

“Hiya Sammy!”

Dean shuffled forward.

Sam’s hands itched to reach out to his brother. He wanted to jump over the little door, the physical representation of the bar, and give Dean the biggest of bear hugs. Tears pricked his eyes. He gulped, wiping them away. He had to remain calm.

He opened the door for Dean, who purposefully or not, stumbled into Sam as he passed. Sam wrapped his hands around Dean’s shoulders, and helped him upright. That's the closest they could get to a hug. He knew. He knew that Dean knew. The man inhaled at the touch, and for a moment Sam wondered if Dean was going to cry too. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.

“It's okay, I got you.” He mumbled.

Dean nodded, and shuffled into his seat in the defense table.

Sam slowly followed. He glanced from Dean to his mug, considering how much, or how little effort this would take.

“It's okay, Dean. I got you,” he mumbled to himself.

He had to throw the case.

He had to let Dean see Mary and Gary. 


End file.
